


Afraid

by SeverinadeStrango



Category: Sengoku Basara
Genre: Abandonment Issues, Akechi Mitsuhide is His Own Warning, Fear of Abandonment, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Surrealism, Unhealthy Obsessions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-21
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-11-01 21:34:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17875259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeverinadeStrango/pseuds/SeverinadeStrango
Summary: Why Mitsuhide stays.





	Afraid

Mitsuhide has never known fear quite like the moment that Nobunaga stands, when he goes to the door and opens it and looks out, and every single time he has closed it again, every single time his Lord has come back to him and gathered him up, wrapping them both in the blankets spread out on the mat and then bruising the back of his neck with crushing kisses that would surely leave marks – just like he wanted. 

But there was always the fleeting terror. What if he wouldn’t what if he walked out of that door and kept walking. Mitsuhide was half-convinced that Nobunaga knew, because sometimes he would stand there for minutes, each passing second feeling like an eternity, raising his hand to the door and then letting it drop and again and again. Without fail, Mitsuhide’s heart would nearly stop in his chest. 

He was too weak this time to call out, or to plead – his voice had been worn hoarse from the strain he’d put on it, his arm, stretched out and silently reaching, ached from the sheer effort that it took to hold himself up. 

_Oh please oh please oh please don’t go come back Nobunaga-kou come back._

But he didn’t move, and Mitsuhide could feel his heart rising up on his throat, the tears welling in his eyes as the seconds ticked by, each one heavier and longer than the last. Perhaps this was it he’d run out of uses, his Lord had grown bored of him even though he’d tried his hardest to avoid the trap of routine and predictability (it was one of those things that they _both_ despised). What would he do if he left – there was nowhere to go, and he had no objectives left of his own. What good was a life without the experiences that went right along with it? No experience could ever measure up to those that came with _existing_ in Nobunaga-kou’s presence, feeling the power, the mercilessness, tantalizingly close to that eternal, inextinguishable fire. 

Mitsuhide turned his face down, the tears finally falling from his eyes and against the folded cloth beneath his head, hair strewn over his back and across the mat, shielding him. So this truly was it – what it felt like to no longer have a purpose, to outlive one’s own memory, and a small, awful, choked noise rose from his scratched throat.

“Stop that.”

Mitsuhide whirled around, flipping himself back over and up to find Nobunaga at the edge of the mat, having apparently moved across the room without a sound in that brief, horrible instant. Hand on his face in his hair forcing him back, and all he could feel was that chilling gaze, freezing him in place. Enough of this. The hand fell, Nobunaga knelt beside him, sliding underneath the blankets with the grace of a wild beast in his prime, and Mitsuhide felt both relieved and enraged at the same time. How dare he. How dare he toy with him so and yet no one else would have _ever_ dared to manipulate him otherwise, ripping any control he once had away from him.

It was exhilarating.

Don’t you dare don’t leave how could you I love you don’t leave stay here with me stop time never end. Nobunaga had worn him down to his very core in ways that he hadn’t even known were possible, and Mitsuhide wouldn’t have had it any other way. 

Exhausted and pliant, unable to move even if he had wanted to, Mitsuhide finally surrendered what little scraps of resistance remained with him, and let Nobunaga pull him down, draw him close. Kisses across his back. Little bites where the bones were close to the surface. The turbulence was the most encompassing experience of it all. Mitsuhide wouldn’t have had it any other way.

He was content, instead, to lay floating in this little Nirvana for as long as it lasted, clutched to his Lord, senses melding, feeling. Feeling everything.


End file.
